


Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed

by themalfoymanner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5891092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themalfoymanner/pseuds/themalfoymanner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco works as a shirtless Abercrombie greeter and leaves Harry most flustered indeed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed

Harry just needed some new shirts for school. That’s all. Hermione had insisted on coming with him to shop, clearly lacking faith in Harry’s sartorial choices. When she had mentioned needing to pick out a new swimsuit, Ron had shown a sudden interest in fashion and decided to tag along as well. Between the three of them, Harry thought they could easily find some clothes and be done with it.

Wrong. So far, he’d been scoffed at in Burberry (but who _wouldn’t_ freak out when they saw those prices?), mocked in Calvin Klein (yes, he’s well aware that his hair is a disaster, thanks ever so much for bringing it up), and terrified at Victoria’s Secret (what are those lacy things even supposed to _be_?). When Ron and Hermione became rather giggly after leaving Victoria’s Secret, Harry had made the desperate suggestion that they separate to “cover more ground,” to which they eagerly agreed. So now here he is, walking around the second floor with no new clothes and no clue what he’s doing.

He’s trying to read the map of the mall when the throbbing pulse of bass notes catches his attention. After peering around the corner, he finds that the pounding music is coming from a dark, heavily perfumed store called Abercrombie & Fitch. It looks pretty preppy, so he’s about to walk past it when he hears an incredulous, “Potter?” Turning around, Harry stumbles when he sees Draco fucking Malfoy, the biggest asshole in school, standing there looking very shirtless, very haughty, and very… hot. Christ, so fucking hot that Harry could almost _combust_.

Harry blinks dazedly, unable to look away from the pale expanse of Malfoy’s chest. _Jesus._ All those years taunting Harry, sneering at him from across the classroom and soccer field, and he was hiding _this_ underneath those prissy little sweaters and polo shirts. Just… wow. He’s lean, his muscles starkly defined, the harsh cut of his abdominal muscles and his jutting hipbones making Harry feel breathless. It makes Harry _want_ , in a way he hasn’t before.

But- but this is _Malfoy_. What should it matter what he looks like? He’s an arrogant shithead, and Harry _hates_ him, hates everything he stands for. In fact, this- this blatant display of his hotness- it’s probably just another way to show off! Yeah, that’s it. What a dick.

Glaring at him (and futilely trying to peel his eyes away from Malfoy’s abs), Harry steps closer. “Malfoy. Nice to see you’ve found your calling. Couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag, could you?” 

Malfoy’s brows pinch together before smoothing over, and he begins to smirk. “Why, Potter. Are you suggesting that my body is brag-worthy? You charmer.” Somehow, Malfoy manages to move so close to Harry that he can see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes. Harry wants to put some space between them, move far enough away that he can’t see how pink his nipples are, how the pale blonde hair beneath his navel disappears beneath his low-slung jeans, making Harry want to map it with his tongue, licking further and further down until… 

_No_! Blushing furiously, Harry becomes extremely interested in the window display, trying to keep his eyes far, far away from Malfoy. “I, um. I just meant that you, uh, you clearly think you do, choosing a job like this.” Harry waves at Malfoy’s state of undress. “You like standing around half naked, having people ogle you?” 

Malfoy’s smirk grows more pronounced. He shrugs, cocking his hip in a way that makes Harry’s mouth go dry. “Of course. I’m a work of art, I’m meant to be admired.” 

Harry snorts. “Very nice. Modest as ever.”

Malfoy sidles closer, and his body heat crashes over Harry, making him shiver. “Why should I be modest? What good will that do? I’m _honest_ , Potter. People like to look at me, and I like them looking. And the store likes it too, because it gets people to shop here who’d usually just walk by and ignore us.” His voice dropping into a low purr, he adds, “People who can’t look away from me, people who imagine what it would be like to fuck me. People like _you_.”

Startled, Harry’s mouth falls open as he tries to contest this _ridiculous_ claim. “What! That’s not- I don’t…. N-no, I- I just need some- some shirts, that’s all. I- I was coming here anyway. To shop.” 

“Sure you were.” Malfoy eyes Harry slowly, grinning as he takes in his scuffed Converse, ripped jeans, and faded Velvet Underground shirt. “Yeah, this is _just_ your style. Obviously. So go ahead.” He sweeps his hand towards the store, bowing dramatically. “Don’t let me stop you.” 

“Right.” Harry hesitates, not quite willing to leave Malfoy yet. Because… because the store looks just _awful_ , that’s why! Not because Malfoy’s smirk is so wicked that it makes Harry’s body thrum with heat, or because Malfoy’s skin is even more perfect up close, smooth and unblemished and so pale that Harry wants to litter it with hickeys. No, nothing like that. “So I’ll just be going then.”

As he turns to leave, Malfoy reaches out and fists the back of his shirt, yanking Harry flush against him. Harry’s breath expels in a loud huff, and he finds his ass pressed firmly against Malfoy’s hips. Malfoy leans down to whisper into Harry’s ear, “We like to offer the best customer service possible here. If you need me to stop by the changing rooms and help you out of your clothes… just let me know.” Malfoy runs his fingers along the strip of exposed skin above Harry’s waistband, and every place he touches feels electrified.

Harry manages to gasp, “I- um… Y-yeah, I c-could probably use a hand.”

And later, as Harry walks into the changing room with a stack of clothes, Malfoy saunters in after him, putting his hands to _very_ good use. 

Talk about customer satisfaction guaranteed.


End file.
